


Reach Out for our Hands

by Lydia_E_Nheers



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: And possibly a sandwich, Arthur can't keep a secret, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, MJN Air Is A Family, Martin Whump, Martin needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1518065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_E_Nheers/pseuds/Lydia_E_Nheers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is at the end of his rope. He missed an important van job. He's just given his last two hundred pounds to pay his rent. Now he has no money, no food, and no job. His van is breaking down and eventually he follows suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reach Out for our Hands

It was quiet and still in G-ERTI’s flight deck. They had just arrived back in Fitton’s airfield and completed the post-landing checks. It had been a very long flight from Beijing with two different stops in Russia and then home. Four days of constant flying different cargo, waiting in airports knowing full well some shady dealings were going on while they were waiting, and getting some sleep whenever they could in awful motels. It was worth it as MJN was making a frankly ridiculous amount of money, but they were all exhausted and for the last three hours, it had been completely silent on the plane.

Now that they had landed, neither Douglas nor Martin particularly felt like moving. Actually, Martin felt more like sinking down into his seat and falling asleep. It would certainly be much more comfortable than his mattress in his attic room. He looked over at Douglas, who was looking very much like he was having the same problem. He stretched and his back crackled and popped.

Douglas slowly got to his feet, stretching. “Well, Captain.” He started. “As fun as that was, I think I may just head for home now.”

“Fine. Okay.” Martin waved at him with a yawn, too tired to get up. He still needed to complete the log books and file everything. Then go home and try and sleep for a bit, as he had a van job lined up the following morning. He rubbed his eyes and didn’t move.

The First Officer raised his eyebrow and looked at him. “Is sir planning on sleeping here tonight? Because I don’t think Carolyn would particularly go for it.”

“She’d probably let me if she could charge me rent.” Martin replied, pushing himself into a standing position. The beginnings of a headache were creeping in and he felt stiff. Just too long stuck on the plane, that’s all.

“Anything to make money.” Douglas agreed with a chuckle and opened the door for him. Arthur and Carolyn were both asleep in their chairs, Arthur with his head on his mother’s shoulder. Martin gently shook them both awake, as Douglas left the plane.

Carolyn agreed to let Arthur skip the hoovering for today, as long as he came back the following day and did it and they both got up and exited, Arthur rubbing his eyes and shuffling after his mother like a baby duck following its mama.

Martin got off the plane and Arthur locked everything up after him. “Bye Skip.” He said as he headed for his mum’s car. Martin could see Carolyn already sitting in the driver’s seat. He knew that they were just as exhausted as he and Douglas were, though they got the luxury of sleeping on the plane.

“Bye Arthur.” Martin waved at Carolyn and headed for the portakabin. He needed to finish the paperwork before going home, and god knew Douglas wasn’t going to be of any help.

Upon entering, he found Douglas sitting in a chair, paperwork spread in front of him. He looked up at Martin’s astonished face. “Don’t get used to it. You just looked half dead on the plane, and you’d probably do this wrong.” He went back to writing. “Plus, like I’ve said before. It’s always good to have someone owe you a favour.”

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, already feeling the siren call of his bed, lumpy as it was.

He looked back up. “Martin. Go home. I can handle this.”

“Thank you, Douglas. I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

“I’ll be here.” He smiled briefly before looking back down.

Martin turned and left, heading for his van. It took two tries for it to start, as if it was tired too. He arrived back at home and shuffled upstairs. It was a Sunday evening, so it was quiet. He knew the students had exams beginning the following day, so they were all in their rooms either studying or quietly panicking. He got into his room and stripped down to his pants, arms and legs feeling like they had been filled with lead, and fell onto his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He awoke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He opened his eyes and staggered to the door. “Coming” he opened it to reveal his landlord on the other side.

“I need the rent, Martin.” He said.

“Now? It’s only...” he turned to look at his clock on the bedside table. Noon. He missed his van job. “Oh god.” He looked wildly around. Maybe if he called the client, he could salvage the job? They seemed easy going on the phone.

“The rent, Martin.” He insisted. “I need it today.”

True panic was starting to hit him. He only had a couple hundred pounds in the bank. He was saving it for a new tyre on the van. It was almost bald and the van was almost due for an inspection. “Okay. Okay. Look, can I pay you two hundred pounds now, that’s half, and then give you the rest next week?”

Mr. Byers looked at him, and felt a real tug of pity. It’s not like Martin was lazy or anything. He was a good bloke. He kept the place spotless, helped the students and was almost never home because he worked so hard. But he had bills. He had students with their parent’s money that were willing to rent the room. But he really did like him. “Fine. Okay, Martin. Two hundred now, and the rest by the end of the week. Okay?”

“Thank you. Thank you.” He ran over to where he kept his chequebook and handed him a cheque for the two hundred.

“Thank you, Martin. Look, you’re a good chap, and I like you. But I need more consistency on the rent. And I need the rest of it soon. I do have a mortgage to pay, you know. I hate to do this to you, but if you don’t pay me the other two hundred quid by the end of the week, I’ll be forced to evict you. I have students that can pay.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Byers. I just haven’t been getting a lot with my van lately. You’ll have it. I promise.”

The landlord left and Martin sat on his bed, and put his head in his hands. He had no money. None. He was broke. He got his mobile and looked at it. Dead. He had forgotten to charge it, just like he had forgotten to turn on his alarm clock.

Upon plugging it in and turning it on, he saw he had three missed calls, all from his client. He had missed his appointment by over three hours. The first voicemail was a polite yet concerned query about where he was, and if the van had broken down or something. The second was angrier, demanding a call and the third was a shouting ‘don’t bother’ and a rant about lack of professionalism. He called them back, apologizing profusely but they would have none of it.

Martin finally hung up and put his head in his hands again, panic washing over him. No money, no food, no job. He had been planning on buying some basic food with the money he would have earned today. He hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, and he had allowed his supply had run completely out because he had a four day trip, and didn’t want anything to go off. This was supposed to be a huge job and he was going to earn quite a bit of money.

Tapping firmly down on the rising fear, he got up and went to his computer, checking his email; maybe a client had sent him a request….no. Nothing. His stomach began to growl, and he had to smile a little. His body still demanded ridiculous things like food even when he knew he couldn’t afford it.

He got up, gathered some clothes and took a shower. Afterward, he decided to go to the airfield. Carolyn always kept snacks on the plane and the portakabin, and he had keys. Perhaps he’d be able to sneak a few things from both. Just enough to tide himself over until he got paid. Any missing items would be blamed on a miscount by Arthur and quickly forgiven.

His van took three tries to start and when it finally did, he laid his head on the steering wheel and offered a prayer to any deity that may be listening to please, please, please keep his van running. As he drove, panic threatened to overtake him again, but he firmly squashed it down. Panicking would make no difference, or solve anything. He had to find a way to feed himself for the next couple of days. Surely a van job would come up soon. Summer was coming, so jobs would be lining up.

He never stole from anyone in his life, and really didn’t want to start now, but what choice did he have? The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mum, and they didn’t have a close enough relationship that he could just drop by for dinner. He arrived at the airfield and parked his van, heading to the plane. When he got closer to the entrance, he noticed the door was unlocked and he heard a whirring sound coming from inside. He opened the door and the sound got louder. He didn’t have any weapons or anything, but who would be threatening G-ERTI? He noticed a cord running up the aisle to the flight deck door.

“Skip?” Arthur poked his head out from the flight deck. He was holding a vacuum. “Hi, Skip!” he turned it off and waved. “What are you doing here?” Damn, he had forgotten that Arthur had agreed to hoover today.

“I erm. I just…I think I left something on the plane. My wallet. Yes. Have you seen it?” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, I haven’t. Hang on, I’ll help you look!” He put the hoover down and came over. “Where do you think you dropped it? We’ll look together! It could also be in the portakabin too. Do you have keys?”

“Yes, I do. Why don’t I look in there? And you look in here?” He couldn’t steal any food now, but he’d pretend to look, maybe shove a few things into his mouth, enough to keep him going and the following day on their trip, he’d try his damnest to get the majority of the cheese on the tray. Maybe sneak some into his flight bag if Douglas went to the loo or something.

Arthur nodded, “right-o, Skip!” he called and Martin exited the plane. On the portakabin, he made a beeline for the small kitchenette and ransacked the cabinets. Nothing. There was nothing there. But Carolyn _always_ had some stuff in the cabinets. Then he realized, it was a Monday. After a four day trip. Of course there wouldn’t be a chance to restock. He sat at the table and ran his hands through his hair, cursing his colossal and perpetual bad luck. A groan escaped him and he buried his face in his arms, trying hard not to cry.

“I’m sorry Skipper, but I couldn’t find…” Arthur came in and saw him sitting at the table, head in his arms. “Skip? You okay?” he came inside fully and put his hand on his shoulder. It was shaking.

“I’m okay. I’m alright.” He wiped his face and looked up. He couldn’t tell Arthur about his money troubles. He couldn’t worry him.

“Aww, don’t worry, Skip. We’ll find your wallet.” He smiled at him. “In the meantime, let’s finish hoovering the plane, and then if you want, you can come back to my mum’s house. I’ll order a pizza and we can watch some films!” His face nearly split with a wide toothy grin, and Martin was helpless to say no.

“Where is your mum, anyway?”

“On a date with Herc. I think they went for another walk with Snoopadoop.”

“Sounds nice.”

“So you’ll come?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes. Let me help you finish cleaning the plane” He stood and offered a weak smile.

“ _Brilliant!”_

Finishing cleaning up was easy. Martin took a rag and cleaning spray and wiped down surfaces in the flight deck, galley and aisle while Arthur hoovered. The entire time, Arthur chattered away over the vacuum about anything that took his fancy while Martin listened. It was easy, happy and Martin found it easy to lose himself in it, and forget about his problems for a bit.

After the hoover was put away, and G-ERTI and the portakabin were all locked up, Arthur offered Martin a ride back in his car. That’s why Martin hadn’t realized he was there when he saw it in the carpark. Arthur usually rode in with Carolyn and Martin had forgotten that the horrible dark orange-y nightmare belonged to their resident steward.

They got in and Arthur began driving home with the radio on, singing along with the pop song that Martin didn’t recognize. It was nice. Like he was with a real mate. God, he had been so damned _lonely_. He worked so hard, came home to an empty room, fell asleep in an empty bed, woke up and went to work again. His life was such a lonely one. He had flying. And that was always enough. But over these last few months, as his bank account dwindled to nothing, his spirits had followed. It was as if he was slowly drowning and just now realized it, sitting there in the car with Arthur, listening to him sing off-key and laughing with him.

They pulled into a small pizzeria and Arthur got out, and Martin froze, remembering. He didn’t have any money.

“Come on, Skip.” Arthur gestured to the restaurant. “Have you ordered from here before? They have so many options, it’s brilliant!”

“Arthur…I’ve lost my wallet, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, this is my treat, okay?”

Martin looked into Arthur’s wide brown eyes that were so filled with simple, radiant happiness and before he could help himself, he began to talk. His emotions were swirling around inside of him, and the words came spilling out.

 “I didn’t lose my wallet, Arthur!” He reached into his pocket and fished it out, handing it to him, seeing his confused face.

“Why would you play a joke like that, Skip? It wasn’t very funny.”

 “It’s empty!” he tugged at his hair. “I don’t have any money because I overslept through my van job and then I had to pay my landlord my last two hundred pounds, so I literally have no money at all, can’t afford any food and I don’t know when my next job will be, because tomorrow I have to go on an overnight for your mum and my van is breaking down, and I can’t afford to fix it and I still owe my landlord half the rent and if I can’t make the payment by the end of the week, he’ll kick me out, and I’ll have nowhere to go! I came to the airfield to steal some food and you caught me, so I made up the wallet thing, and, yes I lied! Because I didn’t want anyone to know! Because in spite of everything, I want to maintain…a little bloody dignity!” All of this came out in a single rushed breath. He wanted to cry. He wanted to storm and rage. But he didn’t. He just took a deep breath and forced himself to remain still and for his eyes to not well with tears.

Arthur listened to all of it and reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. Skip was like a big brother to him, and he hated to see him hurting. He felt his heart breaking for him; why couldn’t his mum afford to pay him? Skip was hurting and not even his world famous surprising rice could fix it.

“I know! Why don’t you talk to Douglas? I’m sure he can think of something.” He smiled encouragingly. Douglas could fix anything. He fixed loads of problems all the time!

“No I can’t tell Douglas, and neither can you.”

“But, why not?”

“Because he’ll laugh himself stupid at me, that’s why!” Martin shook his head. “Can you imagine it?! Martin can’t afford to pay his rent, isn’t that funny?!” he scowled. “You can’t tell him. Please. Promise me.”

“Okay. Okay, I promise. But I don’t think you’re being very fair. Douglas is your friend. I’m sure he’d help if he knew something was wrong.” Arthur replied reasonably.

“You promised. Please don’t tell him. Or your mum.”

“Oh come on! I need to tell my mum! Maybe if she saw how badly off you are, she could find some money somewhere.”

“No! No you don’t! I don’t need hers or Douglas’ pity!” Martin snapped.

“Okay, Skip. I won’t tell them. Promise.” He smiled at him and Martin smiled faintly back. “Now. Come in and we’ll get pizza.”

They ordered two and went back to Arthur’s house. Carolyn and Herc were already there when they made it in, sitting in the kitchen, and when Carolyn saw Martin’s face, her own softened and she invited him in. Arthur offered them pizza to which Carolyn accepted and Herc politely declined, and they ate in the kitchen. Martin put away five slices, knowing full well this would be the last thing he ate until the following evening. The flight wasn’t long enough to warrant an in-flight meal, and when they arrived in Italy, they’d have dinner, and that would come out of the company’s expense card. And then after that, who knew?

Then they went into the sitting room, and Arthur put on the film “Top Gun” which they watched and laughed about Martin’s short-lived aviator shades. Then they watched “Love Actually” and afterward, Martin was stretching and yawning, and he hadn’t thought about his money problems since arriving, and he had laughed more than he had in months.

“Arthur.” He said and stood, checking his watch. It was only eight thirty, but he was exhausted. “Maybe you should drive me back to the airfield. I need to sleep because we have that flight tomorrow.”

“Right you are, Skip.” He stood and stretched, switching off the DVD player. “Let me just get my coat and keys.”

They passed through the kitchen and saw Carolyn and Herc sitting at the table, having a glass of wine. “Goodnight, Carolyn. Night Herc.” Martin said as he passed. Arthur opened the refrigerator and took out the leftover pizza box, putting it into Martin’s grateful hands without a word. He nodded and accepted it with a quiet and dignified, “Thanks, Arthur.”

Carolyn gave him a curious look. “Goodnight Martin. See you bright and early tomorrow morning. Eight AM sharp. And don’t you dare be late.”

“I won’t.” Martin smiled quickly at them and left the house with Arthur.

It took five tries to get his van started. He was running low on petrol, but that would just have to be that for now.

He checked his email again once arriving home; still nothing. He sighed, changed into pyjamas, and set his alarm clock, plugged in his phone, double checked everything and crawled under his sheet, kicking off the duvet. It was so damned hot in here, and unfortunately no breeze. His room was blistering hot in the summer and ice cold in the winter.

However, as he fell into a thin sleep, he was grateful that his landlord allowed him another week. And that he had a full stomach, and tomorrow, he’d get to fly. At least he had that much. He had flying. That was why he killed himself day after day. That’s why he went without. That’s why he did everything and worked so hard. Because he could fly. He’d do anything to keep doing it. He was only truly content when he was in the air, and finally felt free.

The following day, he made it to the airfield. It had taken seven tries to start the van this time. And now there was a funny smell coming from the dashboard. Like burning plastic and metal. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. Martin sped the entire way to the airfield, but he was late. He would have called Carolyn, but he was running low on minutes on his phone, and he needed to save those for his van clients. He entered the portakabin to find Douglas, Arthur and Carolyn seated at the table. All three of them looked at him when he came in.

“Good morning, Captain.” Douglas said with a smile. “How nice of you to join us, and only…” he looked at his watch “twenty minutes late.”

“Oh come off it, Douglas.” He hung up his jacket. “I had a bit of van trouble, and our client won’t even be here until nine. And you’re late almost every day, I might add.”

“You might.” He conceded and went back to the glossy magazine open in front of him on the table.

Carolyn scowled. “That isn’t the point, Martin. This is your job, and I expect you to be on time.”

“I’m sorry. I told you I was having van trouble.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because I’m running low on minutes, and I need to save them for when van jobs come up! You know, the ones that _actually_ pay me!”

“Why don’t you just do what I do?” Douglas asked. “Just pay your bill early. They’ll replenish your minutes and you’re fine for the following month.”

“I use those top-up card things, and I haven’t had time to buy a new one.” He said defensively. “Can we just drop it, now?”

“I expect better of you, Martin.” Carolyn started “We have a very rich client who expects two pilots to be here on _time_. This is a job, for which we are being paid a very decent amount of money.”

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” He went to make himself a cup of coffee.

“See to it.”

Arthur was looking very uncomfortable throughout the whole exchange and finally, couldn’t stand it anymore. “Don’t talk to Skipper like that!” he shouted. Carolyn and Douglas whipped their heads to look at him, mouths falling open. Arthur _never_ got angry, and now he was red faced and shouting.

“Arthur.” Martin interrupted, warningly. “It’s okay. Just _drop it.”_

“No! It’s not alright! Skip can’t afford food, mum! He can’t pay his rent! His landlord’s going to kick him out if he can’t finish paying it off this week! He can’t fix his van, or afford new mobile minutes or any of it! So just leave him alone!”

Both Carolyn and Douglas looked at him in shock. Martin stood, frozen to the spot, trying to disappear into the floor. He could feel himself breathing heavily and the urge to run was overpowering. “Martin…” Douglas started and began to stand up.

“YES! It’s true! And go ahead! Laugh! Have a great big laugh! _Captain_ Martin Crieff can’t afford to pay his rent!” His legs suddenly worked and he fled out of the portakabin, running to his van. They could fly without him, the client didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was going to drive and drive and hopefully never stop. He was shaking all over, anger at everything flooding through him. He was angry at Arthur for telling them even after promising him he wouldn’t. He was angry at Carolyn for not paying him what he bloody deserved. He was angry at Douglas for his perfect life and his money and his smarmy attitude. Most of all, he was angry at himself for being enough of a fool to believe he could have his dreams come true, amidst his life shattered on the ground around him.

“MARTIN!” He heard Douglas shouting after him. He ignored him and groped for his keys. Which were in his jacket pocket. Which he left in the portakabin.

The control he had such a tight grip on finally snapped and with an inhuman scream of rage, frustration, pain and unbelievable sadness, he began kicking and punching the van with all of his might. Hot tears scalded his cheeks and he slipped and fell to his knees, raging at the sky. The huge, vast, unending sky. The one that gave him all of his freedom and joy and took from him his money, time, and options. Nothing but flying was an option. That huge and unforgiving sky had stolen everything and in return gave him mere hours of happiness.

He suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around his middle, holding him in place. He struggled, but they only grew tighter. “Martin.” Douglas’ voice was a whisper in his ear. “Martin, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.”

“No!” he screamed. “NO! It’s NOT OKAY! I’m a failure! I can’t even feed myself! I wanted so badly to fly, Douglas.” His voice dropped and he began to weep harder. The rage fled and all the fight went out of him. His body sagged against Douglas, who was kneeling on the pavement behind him. “I just wanted to fly.” He repeated. “That’s all I ever wanted, and even though I should have known that I can’t…It took me seven tries to get my bloody CPL. But I got it. And then I was so rubbish that the only ones who will let me fly are the ones who won’t even pay me to do it.”

The arms only tightened and he felt Douglas’ face drop onto his shoulder. “You aren’t rubbish.” His voice was soft and kind. “You aren’t. You are a man who will stop at nothing to do the thing he loves.”

 Martin was sobbing into Douglas’ arm and against his will, soaking in the hug. How long had it been since he was hugged? That realization crashed over him, only making him cry harder. Douglas just held him in silence for a long stretch.

 “Why didn’t you tell us?” Douglas he finally asked, with no teasing, or malice in his voice. Martin could feel a wide hand rubbing his back soothingly.

“Because…I thought you’d take the piss.” His tears slowed down and he wiped his face with the palm of his hand.

“I take the piss out of you for your ridiculous hat. And for your height. And for how you land in a crosswind. But I’d never tease you for this.” Douglas stood and gently pulled Martin to his feet. He reached into his pocket and handed Martin a tissue to clean himself up with.

“This is what’s going to happen. You are going to move in with me.” He put a hand up to stop Martin from interrupting. “I have a spare room and no one to use it. You are going to move in with me, and then I’m going to tell Carolyn to split my salary between us. Because you will help me with the bills. This isn’t pity. This is me asking you to be my flatmate.”

Martin began feverishly wiping his face off. “But I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. And you will.” Douglas replied firmly, yet kindly. “I will help you get your van fixed so you can get more jobs and when you’ve saved the money, you can pay me back.”

He looked up into Douglas’ face, searching his eyes for any hint of an ulterior motive, or any sign of pity or deceit. Upon finding none, he nodded. “I’m not a charity case. I will help out with the chores. I can cook.”

“No you aren’t. And I fully expect it.” Douglas agreed and put out his hand for Martin to shake. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He shook it.

And with that, Douglas turned and led Martin back to the portakabin. For the first time in a long time, years even, Martin felt better. He had friends, and he would be okay. He really would. As they walked, Martin looked up at the sky again. “Douglas?” he stopped.

“Yes?” the first officer turned and looked at him.

“It’s a great day to fly, isn’t it?”

Douglas looked up at the clear, blue sky. Then back down at Martin’s lightened face, and then he smiled. “Yeah. I really think it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and non-Brit Picked. I really, really hope you enjoy it.


End file.
